


Ruthless

by Ladytalon



Category: Stargate: SG-1
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-06-09
Updated: 2010-06-09
Packaged: 2017-10-10 00:51:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/93439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ladytalon/pseuds/Ladytalon





	Ruthless

  


Baal laced his fingers together as he lounged on his throne, studying the woman standing before him through narrowed eyes. "Your offer is equal parts intriguing and ridiculous," he finally said, sitting up and placing his hands flat on the intricately carved black marble. "Tell me why I shouldn't kill you where you stand."

She faced him calmly, as if there weren't an entire contingent of Jaffa leveling their staff weapons at her from all sides. "I could kill these before you could do more than blink, and then I would be the one asking that question."

He smiled. "If you'd like to try, I'm in the mood for a show."

"The deaths of your slaves don't trouble you?" she asked, tilting her head curiously.

Baal leaned back lazily. "Should they?"

The amber glow of the torches gleamed off her pale hair as she shifted, a serene smile curving her mouth. "You are as ruthless as reported."

"No," Baal said thoughtfully, "I'm a good deal worse." He ran his eyes over her again, taking his time before lifting his left hand to examine the ribbon device wrapped around it. "Joining my forces with that of the Replicators is not an idea that appeals to me."

The reproduction of Samantha Carter continued to smile. "But something else _does_, if I want to leave your mothership alive."

He smiled back. "I'm so glad we understand each other."

Pushing down on the armrests Baal rose to his feet and moved over in front of her, raising a hand to dispel his First Prime's concern. "My Lord," the Jaffa said, bowing and stepping back.

When there was less than an inch between them, Baal stopped and looked at the Replicator before him. He'd heard about what she'd done to the other Goa'uld in the space station and though his host felt a twinge of unease being so close to her, Baal ignored it and lifted a hand to trace her lips with his fingers. "It seems I must extend my gratitude towards you for disposing of the System Lord Yu," he purred, watching her closely.

She remained impassive as his index finger trailed down the curve of her neck, towards the swell of her cleavage. Then she moved, startling the Jaffa surrounding them – one of them fired his staff weapon, the energy burst slamming into her side with a force that merely caused her to sway on her feet slightly.

The Replicator's head snapped around to fix on her assailant, and Baal lifted his chin to signal the others to stand away from the offender. "Lord Baal, I did not intend-" the Jaffa's words ended in a bubbling scream as Samantha Carter's double took two steps forward and plunged a blade into his vitals.

Withdrawing it, she turned back to face Baal and he watched in fascination as the length of bloody metal dissolved back into a human hand. "Was that what you used on the others?"

"You don't seem frightened," she observed.

Baal ignored the nervous shifting of his Jaffa. "Does that disappoint you?" He waved a hand towards the corpse on the floor. "Take that away."

"Now, where were we?"

The Replicator unbuttoned her uniform jacket, walking up to him to take his hand and place it on her chest. "Here."

The Jaffa removed the dead body and cleaned up the blood as Baal slid his hand down to cup one of her breasts, making her eyelids flicker as he pinched through the fabric suddenly. "Are you indeed a perfect copy of Samantha Carter?" he asked.

Her eyes stayed locked on his as he stroked a finger over the erect nipple beneath her shirt. "You could say that I am more perfect than even _she_ is," she responded, her breath hitching as he pinched lightly.

Baal wondered exactly how comparable to Carter she really was – were her responses simply part of an elaborate program, or was she human enough to feel arousal? He'd find out soon enough, he mused. Taking a machine to his bed would be a novel experience, something he hadn't had enough of lately… the demands of Anubis were an irritant he could gladly do without.

He looked down to see his Lo'taur Jolea kneeling off to one side expectantly, and nodded. The young woman bowed her head until her hair brushed the tops of his boots and stood to hurry off in the direction of his bedchamber. "Shall we?" he asked, gesturing towards the gilded doorway behind his throne. When they entered, the Replicator walked straight towards the bed and sat down in the middle of it to wait for him. What he had taken for her clothing melted into her skin until she was fully nude – the wound from the staff blast was nowhere in evidence. Baal smirked, looking her over as Jolea unobtrusively approached to undress him.

His Lo'taur eased his clothing from his body with practiced skill so that her hands never even touched his flesh but he paid no attention to her, focusing instead upon the copy of Samantha Carter waiting for him on his bed. She watched dispassionately as Jolea finished undressing him, so instead of simply dismissing his body servant he beckoned her forward.

"Yes, My Lord," Jolea breathed reverently, kneeling between his legs to begin fellatio. Baal positioned himself so that the Replicator was afforded a decent view of his female slave taking him into her mouth. The only sounds in the chamber were of his breathing and the wet, sucking sounds the Lo'taur made as she performed oral sex upon him as the machine on his bed watched silently.

Baal reached a hand to touch his slave's face and she obediently drew off of him, placing a final kiss on the tip of his erection and scooting backwards to kneel beside the bed. The Replicator allows him to push her back on the blankets where he resumed caressing her breasts, rolling her erect nipples between his fingers and watching her reactions. "Have you done this before?" he asks, lowering his head to run his tongue around her areola before closing his teeth around her nipple and tugging.

She lay still beneath him, waiting for him to look up at her before answering. "It serves no purpose."

"Replicators seem to pride themselves on the ability to mimic humans," Baal commented. "It would stand to reason that you would imitate them in every respect, including this one."

"The other Samantha Carter would not be here with you," she said coolly.

He sneered, moving his hand down her stomach. "Then why are you?" His fingers slid past the thatch of blonde curls at the apex of her thighs. It was all too easy to imagine that she was the _real_ Colonel Carter spreading her legs for him – the next time he encountered SG-1 would be interesting, indeed.

Her eyelids fluttered closed as he ran the pads of his fingers over the soft flesh between her legs, but her eyes opened again almost instantly. Well, _well_. "I believe we've already discussed why I'm here."

Baal shook his head, continuing to rub his fingers against her folds until he felt them becoming slick. One corner of his mouth tugged upward into a smirk as he wondered just what the bodily fluids of a Replicator consisted of – engine oil and battery acid, perhaps? "You knew I would never join with the Replicators after you began eliminating my fleet yet you still came here, to me." He gathered her moisture and smoothed his dampened index finger up beneath her clitoris, nudging at the tiny kernel of flesh until she shifted her hips involuntarily. "Why?"

"Does it really matter?" she asked him, sounding as if she were sitting across a bargaining table from him and not lying beneath him while he indulged a sexual perversion he'd never even realized he possessed.

He moved over her to spread her legs wider, dropping down to push inside. "Of course it matters."

She looked up at him without blinking. "Perhaps I came here, to you, for this."

Baal considered her statement, somewhat distracted at the feel of her inner walls shifting to conform around him as he flexed his hips. "Perhaps," he agreed easily, doubt beginning to blossom in his mind. Something about this wasn't quite right, but what was it? "After all, this is one of the most pleasurable ways of exerting one's power."

The Replicator's limbs trembled in a minor convulsion when Baal altered his angle of entry – the amusing thought that he might have to apply a zat'nik'tel discharge to her in order to bring her to whatever amounted to an orgasm for a piece of machinery made him nearly laugh aloud, as did the idea that he had even thought to please anyone but himself.

Her lips parted slightly when he began to thrust harder, and the sheer _humanity_ of the response puzzled him. The longer Baal spent with her, the more organic she became; he might not go so far as to say she was enjoying herself, per se, but her reactions began to cause the original seed of doubt to grow.

Baal couldn't remember anything from the reports he'd read about the new breed of Replicators that indicated they were even capable of producing bodily fluids. And if the replica of Samantha Carter _was_ producing them…

_Mind probe_, his host shrieked at him.

Beneath him, the Replicator smiled. "It's a shame you couldn't simply remain unaware." She placed a hand on his chest, pushing, and…

…he was on his knees being pushed off the hand that had somehow buried itself into his forehead.

All around him lay the dead bodies of his Jaffa, the scorch marks marring the walls a testament to the fighting that he couldn't remember happening. The Replicator stood over him like an executioner and he wrested control back from his host, sheer panic having made it stronger than usual. "What do you _want?_" he demanded harshly. Out of the corner of his eye, Baal saw that at least half of the pel'tak was in the process of being converted into Replicator blocks.

She lifted her right arm, and he watched as the flesh molded itself into the gleaming blade she had fooled him into thinking she had killed one of his Jaffa with. "I don't want anything… you've already given it to me."

The Replicator moved forward, and Baal's eyes widened involuntarily as the sharp steel sliced through the heavy fabric of his coat, sliding into his body and angling up until he felt it exit between his shoulder blades. She twisted her arm as she drew it free, breaking ribs, and the coppery taste of blood filled his mouth when he tried to speak.

He collapsed face first on the floor, struggling to breathe as she nudged his cheek with the toe of her boot so that he faced towards the wall. It moved as if alive and though his host was on the verge of death, Baal forced his eyes open and watched as some of the blocks parted to disgorge a perfect copy of himself.

His Replicator double opened its eyes and walked to the other one. He could sense both of them turning to look down at him, and as his vision grew dimmer Baal could see the new Replicator's bare feet moving over to stop in front of him. Fingers in his hair moved his head around so that the left side of his face pressed against the blood-slicked floor, and the last thing he was aware of was the sensation of a hand sliding into his neck to sever his connection to his host's brainstem.

Withdrawing his hand from the motionless body at his feet, the Replicator known as Baal looked up at his creator. "It has died."

She watched him as he straightened, face expressionless. "Were you able to absorb any of the symbiote's memories?"

He looked down at the corpse, and then back at her, running through the catalog of information he had gleaned before the Goa'uld's expiration. Concentrating upon the directive concerning personal habits and behavior, he rearranged his organic shell to simulate clothing and looked back at the female Replicator with the facial expression most favored by the one he now emulated. "Ruthless."

Her own expression shifted, and his programming identified it as a smile. "Worse."

They merged, exchanging data, and he absorbed the command directives she uploaded to him. The others in the network identified themselves with their data signatures, and when his creator severed the link he practiced the smile once more before turning to the controls and plotting a course to Dakara.

_fin_


End file.
